Friday, December 23, 2011

Things That Chap My Ass About Christmas

Santa was never elected, he apparently just took over the whole process when nobody was looking.

He wears a red suit. Duh.

Claus sounds a lot like Claws. And a claw looks a lot like a sickle, which as everybody knows is the symbol of communism. He’s got the population under continuous surveillance, and he keeps lists of people based on some arbitrary socialist measure of good and bad. People stand in line to see him, in fact there are queues everywhere during the Christmas season – and standing in line is one of the defining pillars of socialism.

Then there’s the whole gift thing. He apparently sneaks into your house at night - without a warrant or probable cause or any kind of Constitutional controls, I mean you don’t need to be sent to a reeducation camp to see this do you? And he leaves presents for the “good” kids based on some kind of arcane request system – which to me sounds a heck of a lot like “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need” – and the presents are made in some kind of collective factory run by an oppressed ethnic workforce. And the “bad” kids? They get a lump of coal – the very symbol of the lumpenproletariat – it’s like he’s just rubbing your face in it, isn’t it?

Next there’s the whole green vehicle thing. Santa’s sleigh runs on hay and grain like something Ed Bagley Jr. would drive to his weekly party meetings at the Al Gore I Hate America Sustainable Headquarters. And reindeer? Where do they come from? Right, exactly, Russia!

And this entire political apparatus is propped up on the backs of the workers, who are expected to support the power structure with the fruits of their labor – i.e. they are forced to give up a portion of their grain and dairy production in the form of cookies and milk – in support of the entire society. What’s next, socialized healthcare? My God, before you know it, we’ll be living in Canada!

You have only to look around, shake off the shackles of oppression, to see it:

Music: Heroic music has long been a tool of the power elite. Designed to lull the masses into a malleable state of submission through endless repetition. Two months of Joan Jett’s Little Drummer Boy and Dogs Barking Jingle Bells will turn all but staunchest anarchist into a pudding-brained drone. People will band together in collectives and go door to door spreading the propaganda of socialism through the vehicle of “Christmas carols.” The more easily influenced will actually leave their homes and join the mob of carolers like Bolshevik peasants joining the October Revolution.

And speaking of the the Mob: Have you been in the stores during the holiday season? The shelves are stripped bare by crazed crowds driven to a frenzy by the sounds of Carol of the Bells blaring from every speaker in the nation. Let the rumor spread that Wal-Mart might have a new shipment in from the state factories and mile long lines form almost instantly. What is it? Zhu-Zhu Hamsters? Fisher-Price’s Elmo Live Encore? Toilet Paper? Shoes? Cabbages? We don’t care! Get in line! Wait, what’s that? black market Twilight Barbies sold from the back of a nondescript truck? I’ll take two, Comrade!

The Secret Police: If mind numbing music wasn’t enough, while you’re standing in line for hours on end you get to listen to the endless ringing of little bells. It’s the Salvation Army, Santa’s intelligence gathering arm. They’re everywhere, on every corner, in every store, always watching like the pervasive surveillance system they are. Shaking you down, demanding a cut, all in order to “redistributing the wealth.” They wear red jackets for crying out loud, could it be more obvious?

Socialist Art: The symbols of this Socialist Season are everywhere. Armies of giant inflatable Frosty The Snowmen and Santas dominate the landscape like those concrete statues of Marx and Lenin that once filled the squares of Moscow. Yesterday I saw a pickup truck that had its “Truck Nutz” replaced with two large red mirrored balls and a garland of tinsel – my friends, when the state comes for your testicles, you’re living under the jackbooted heel of communism.

Propaganda: The socialists are piping their message directly into the minds of our children. The airwaves are filled with TV specials like that one with the Island of Misfit toys, a not so subtle reference to Gulags and the fate of those who don’t fit in. Who can fail to see the subliminal message in the final climatic battle scene when the imperialists subvert The People’s Heroic Heat Miser into a decadent display of dancing? Or how about when that communist Charlie Brown attempts to convince the gang that his miserable substandard shrub is really a beautiful Christmas tree? For the love of the Almighty Dollar, people, open your eyes!

Fruitcake. Yes, I know, you were wondering where the hammer in the “hammer and sickle” was. Look no further than this abomination. When the revolution comes, it will be fruitcake that smashes the windows and staves in the head of the free man, mark my words.

*sigh* Now I have to figure out just what it all means. Do I send the kid to the company-run mall with all of my money, the Commie Santa re-education gulag for caroling, the all-'Merican militia camp for winter weapons training, or the fundie church with a candle for prayer-brainwashing? Decisions, decisions. Maybe we can just stay home, bake cookies, have cocoa, and piss everybody off.

By the way, Jim, if this blog post went up on a far right wing website, you probably could not distinguish it from any other posting. It could be a "Poe" (a parody indistinguishable from a real extremist viewpoint). How freaking funny and yet so sad.

See? We're losing our freedoms, and to a socialist hippie no less. "Spreading" all that wealth, indoctrinating our children. That's where they start you know. And we're all supposed to take it with cheer and good will. And even sing caroles about it.

I was inclined to dismiss this as paranoia taken to the next level, until I saw the part about the Secret Police coming for the Truck Nutz. After spitting up my coffee and making a general mess, I must admit: Christmas may be a Communist plot. Seems that way. Beware!

I'm home alone after having surgery -spouse has to work, and think I might need help now. The laughing is killing my stitches!As always, your writing is spot-on.Thanks for making my holiday. Now I can skip the oxy-spiked fruitcake.

I don't give a crap about his politics, I just want Santa Marx to bring me my damn American Racing wheels, Holley double pumper, braided S/S fuel lines and one of those new Trojan vibrator thingies I keep seeing on Sunday morning TV.

Free shit is free shit. Doesn't matter whether it comes from a soon to be submersible 90 North workshop or a Commie/Trotskyite/Marxist/Islamo/Kenyan giveaway collective.

Once again we are on the same wavelength. My Mom and I got into stitches the other night watching Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer with my 7 yr old and coming to the same conclusions - you know the collective, captured ethnic workforce, the oppression of "different-ness" - until it becomes useful to the powers that be - etc. etc.

LMAO! Careful though, some tea party types mighty take this seriously.One of my college Philosophy professors told something similar every year close to Xmas about Santa being Japanese - his name was really Ta-klas San, all the toys are made in Asia, He had Ronin rather than reindeer and one who drank a lot was always telling people not to be rude - "Rude-off the red-nosed Ronin." There was more but after more than 15 years I no longer remember the rest.

I got some Boudreaux's Butt Cream for the chapped ass!! How hilarious! But seriously, the communists will take over America through...capitalism!! How subservsive!! I mean, hell, the Koreans have taken over the Heart of Dixie already!!

Santa? I like Marc Moran's take: "I like to grow my beard out around Christmas. I dress up like Jesus and go to malls and say "No, no this isn't what it's about!". And if I see a Santa, I go up to him and say "hey fat man, you're just a clown at my birthday party!".

Here's what Free Translation Online tells us that Skyman123 had to say in Russian. Assless Chaps and sounds of bells. There is no more to say.+++++++++++++++

Comrade James

The central Committee has considered article and at us is fast you are detained for consideration of your article on unit of interrogations of KGB. To you it will be interrogated naked ethnic minority which you have mentioned while you carry " assless chaps " at the same time quilted a sound of bells while you accept, that you the agent of CIA that has detected our plot.

Factory workers of a factory of a leather of people also would like to note, that all "chaps" capitalist pigs are "assless" you in ignorance.

I highly recommend "Working Hands" for chapped asses. Works great on knitter's hands (the wool absorbs every smidgen of oil your hands produce and then some). I'm sure your wife would enjoy alleviating your suffering posterior.

My question: has Saint Nick actually gone through the process of being sainted by the Pope? Is there any documentation that he was first venerated, then blessed, and then sainted? Who actually did he have petition the Catholics to achieve sainthood? Did they have any conflicts of interest in applying for Nicholas' upgraded status from regular neighborhood Joe? What miracles did he perform? I don't mean delivering toys in a microsecond to the billions of children, look what Twitter can do in the same amount of time (you don't see petitions to beatify a Twit, do you?) Personally, I think Nick took upon himself the title "Saint", and should be immediately disqualified from doing any more marketing for churches, companies, government entities and radical fundamentalists.

OMG anonymous I love online translators! That's enough to get the message! When Jim said "chaps my ass" I immediately thought of "assless chaps" comments so I wanted to point out that, technically, all chaps are "assless" or they aren't...ummm...chaps.

But since we were all Socialist, I thought writing it in Russian was a nice holiday touch.

I lived 16 years in the UK as Marine and then scum sucking contractor, returning to the DC area (aka HELL) in '07. One benefit of the American Century is the miracle of the podcast. Specifically, the availability to continue to listen to my favorite BBC Radio 4 comedy, science, travel, gardening, etc programs.

I highly recommend the "Infinite Monkey Cage" discussion of the Science of Christmas and Friday Night Comedy XMas Show. (You may need a primer on the UK politicians. But, it is still funny to Colonials. )

Nasty, it's a play on the phrase, "that just chaps my ass." Commonly used here in this part of the world. I write a series of "Things that chap my ass about..." articles. There's a tag at the bottom of the post.

I live in Alaska, trust me, I know what chapped means. Thanks.

Anon@08:19, thanks! I did know that one of my posts appeared in the contest. Pretty cool.

My bad, folks... I'd heard the expression many times that way too, in Alaska, not realizing it a cold weather play on the Lower 48 form chafes my ass. But I'm still a champing at the bit kinda guy. Let me say now though, I do always enjoy your blog Jim. Great thoughts.

Oh, I see a pay per view caged grudge match brewing. The budding young conquerer of the universe challenging the old master. "WRIGHT VS. RED" I mean, think about it. What've you got to lose. The worst that could happen to you is you end up on his "not nice" list.

Oh, I see a pay per view caged grudge match brewing. The budding young conquerer of the universe challenging the old master. "WRIGHT VS. RED" I mean, think about it. What've you got to lose. The worst that could happen to you is you end up on his "not nice" list.

Jim - I have long believed there is only ONE fruitcake, whose origins are lost in the mists of time. All the others are merely imperfect quantum slices, which are endlessly regifted. There are probably still fruitcakes from the middle ages sitting under Christmas Trees in Cleveland - how would anyone possibly know? They all look and smell the same. An argument can easily be made that the search for the Fruitcake has replaced the quest for the Holy Grail. Were the ancient alchemists trying to transmute lead to gold or make a decent fruitcake? Why did we really go to the moon? Is our favorite dictator trying to build nuclear weapons or does he seek to create the Fruitcake - one bite of which will allow him to rule them all? Perhaps Uncle Chang got too close to the truth? Are the bazillions of Little Debbie cakes delivered to the masses in an effort to pacify them because they will never savor the Fruitcake? Last but not least - the Cern Accelerator complex - the biggest toaster-oven/thingamajig ever built - is the West looking for the God particle or trying to recreate the Fruitcake?

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Jim Wright is a retired US Navy Chief Warrant Officer and freelance writer. He lived longer in Alaska than anywhere else and misses it terribly. He recently moved to the fetid Panhandle of Florida and lives now in an ancient Cold War bunker of a house surrounded by alligators and rednecks. He's been called the Tool of Satan, but he prefers to think of himself as the Devil's Designated Driver. He is the mind behind Stonekettle Station. You can email him at jim@stonekettle.com. You can follow him on Twitter @stonekettle, or you can join the boisterous bunch he hosts on Facebook at Facebook/Stonekettle. Remember to bring brownies and mind the white cat, he bites. Hard.

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